Shorty: And the Treasure of the Second Dynasty
by therealrudyroci
Summary: This is a story I originally wrote for an English class in my freshman year. I actually went a little overboard on the first chapter. I wrote it about Short Round, (That Asian kid in the Temple Of Doom) as a young adult. The adventure of the story is focused on finding a treasure from China's 2nd dynasty. Feedback is ENCOURAGED. Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 1

It was itchy, very itchy. Not just the tuxedo, which had been sitting in Daniel's laundry pile for the longest time, but also the room he was in. Frank Sinatra's _Blue Moon_ was playing on a record near the dance floor, and a cloud of smoke hovered above the crowd. The clinging and clashing of spoons and dishes was apparent, and the loud noise coming from all directions of the building was nauseating. Daniel sat down, the table reserved for him was small, yet functional, and the flat part of the table had a radius of maybe 3 feet, where his entire meal sat. It looked appetizing enough, a small rib eye steak, a small salad, an even smaller bowl of soup, and a large cocktail sitting in the center of it all, appearing to be the main course of the meal. He politely scanned the room, looking for his special guest. He began scratching his abdomen, the suit was beginning to kill him from the inside out, and he had no idea what was inside that was making him so scratchy. He stopped when he noticed a group of ladies across the room eying him. He appropriately apologized with an awkward, yet friendly wave.

Since there was nothing else to do but wait, he began to eat his meal and sip on his cocktail. The steak, although being dry, was filling and the cocktail was sweet and scrumptious. After eating, a waitress came to pick up after him. When leaving a very large tip he asked, "Has anybody else sat at my table before I got here?"

She shook her head, it seemed that she didn't speak English. Naturally he tried Chinese and asked her again. She responded in mandarin, "No, I only got a call through the phone this morning," as she rubbed the back of her neck furiously.

Her dress was standard for the building, a white waitresses suit with a red bow tie. But something was off. Her pants were a very dark blue. He glanced over at another table to see if his suspicions were true. On another waitress, he could see that the standard for the restaurant was black. At this point he couldn't decide which was more obvious, that she was lying or that she didn't work there. He pulled her by the hand closer drawing his gun pointing it at her side, "Are you really going to tell me what's going on or are you going to keep playing innocent?"

"You'll never escape," she whispered into his ear with a piercing sting, "the entire building is surrounded with my men."

He began to look around at this point. He saw the same eyes from the ladies table earlier began to look at him with a cold dead stare. Even some of the dancers on the dance floor began to stand still and eye him with daggers. He promptly let her go, holstered his gun, and commanded the waitress to sit down.

"I don't really see what the getup is for doll," he said in English," I thought people of your caliber have no reason to be cautious around guys like me."

She responded in extremely fluent English, "There is no reason, I just like picking on guys like you, make sure your tough enough to be around me."

"Where is it?"

"Let me see your end of the deal first."

He reached into his coat pocket, out came a shiny turquoise jewel, lights from the dance floor sparkling in its eye. He placed it on the table in front of him," You have seen it, now it's your turn."

She reached into her suit pocket, pulling out an old scroll, and handed it over to Daniel. He identified its purpose, and unraveled it. It looked real enough, the paper was aged, fragile and the ancient Mandarin seemed to be in order. Because he wasn't fluent in the text, he decided to take the deal, knowing that even if this was a fake it was a damn good one and he could hang it up in a museum anyways. He nodded his head, and passed the gem over to the waitress. She examined it, its green reflective light shining in her eyes. She looked up at Daniel, and then back at the singer, she nodded and said," Thanks, Shorty."

His eyes widened and his face turned red," Where did you learn that name?" He asked with a crack in his voice.

"I have done some work with your old… Partner, I should say."

He continued to work himself up," Only he is allowed to call me that okay? That's his word, I never want you to say that _again!_ "

He slammed his hands on the table, breaking the cocktail glass and cutting his hand. There was a silence that was cast upon the room, he suddenly realized he was making a scene and simmered down. The noise fell upon the room again, seemingly louder than before, perhaps it was because their was something new to talk about, or maybe because the patrons of the restaurant needed to catch up within those few seconds and wanted to make up for it. The waitress stood up," Well I must be going now, I'm needed upstairs."

"Alright," he replied," have a good rest-of-your-night."

"See you next time." She said as she kissed Daniel on the forehead.

The cut on his hand was beginning to heal, but, for good measure, wrapped it up in a small napkin that was left on the table. He recovered from the incident in about 10 minutes and then retreated out of the restaurant with the map inside of his jacket pocket. Quickly, in the coatroom he changed into a pair of blue jeans, a worn out dress shirt, a heavy jacket, and a Yankees baseball cap. Shoving all of the fancy cloths inside of a small backpack. Outside it was wet, as if it had rained the entire time he was in there and suddenly stopped for him. His converse splashed as he ran across the street. He hopped into his blue '54 ford truck, inappropriately in a no parking zone, pulled the ticket left on the windshield and drove down the boulevard.


End file.
